Reaching a street corner or alley a little later it was found that the natives had resorted to their brutal, inhuman tactics in dealing even with civilized troops. A sailor, stripped of his clothing and mutilated, was lying in the roadway. Perhaps he had lost his section and wandering here trying to locate it, was set upon by the cruel natives.
"Ah! a sight like that makes the very blood in me bile," said Mike, shaking his fist in the direction of the dodging opponents far up the street; "if I knew the feller what did that to the poor flatfoot,[#] I'd be a brute meself and tear him to pieces with me bare hands."
[#] "Flatfoot"--Marine Corps slang for a sailor.
"Look out, Dorlan," yelled Dick, and falling flat on the rough cobble stones in the middle of the street he emptied a clip of cartridges into a doorway which that moment was flung open, and from which a half dozen rifle barrels were pointing from behind a rough barricade. But he did not stop the volley of shots which followed, and the heavy leaden slugs splashed, pattered, and flattened all about the little color guard. They rained against the walls of the buildings on either hand, gouging out great chunks of mortar and plaster to a depth of several inches, and one bullet, partly spent, struck Dick in the shoulder, penetrated to the bone and lodged there.
"I guess I'm hit, old pal," he said weakly to Mike, after they had silenced the fighters behind the barricade and had gone on for a couple of blocks. "I thought it was only a scratch, but the blood's running down my back, and----" but just then it seemed as though a great thunder-storm was descending upon the city; the sky grew black and the darkness came so swiftly that he could not see where to step, and with a sob he fell into the arms of his faithful friend.
"After all, it is not much more than a scratch; it is lack of sleep and nourishment during the last few days," said the surgeon, handing Dick a piece of lead he had recently removed from the boy's wound, "but I have recommended that you be sent back to Corinto, where you can receive proper attention on board ship."
"But is the fighting all over?" asked Dick weakly.
"Surest thing you know, my boy, for 'the marines have landed and have the situation well in hand,' as the papers always say," answered the surgeon smiling.
"Thanks for the Navy's bringing us here," added Dick with a wan smile, and then he dropped off into a much needed peaceful sleep.
Two days later as he lay on his white bunk in the sick bay of the U.S.S. Buffalo, steaming southward to Panama, and the wonderful hospital at Ancon, a letter was handed him. On opening it he found a document appointing him a corporal in the United States Marine Corps. Also enclosed was a very complimentary letter from the Commanding Officer of Marines ashore, thanking him for his excellent work during the exciting days of the campaign, and at the end he read with satisfaction that, owing to his information, a certain German and his accomplice had been arrested by the Government authorities and were on their way to the coast, where they were to be deported, and forbidden ever to return.